


Past and Future

by Ms_Julius



Series: SINF-week 2 [2]
Category: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel - Michael Scott
Genre: Blood, M/M, SINF Week, SINF Week 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 21:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12197631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Julius/pseuds/Ms_Julius
Summary: Some traits follow us through our lives. Some fade over time, some grow stronger when the years go.





	Past and Future

**Author's Note:**

> Second part of the SINF-week 2, prompt was "Past and Future"

“Henry, get back here! Did you take your father’s revolver again?”

The little boy didn’t even bother to look back as he skipped across a narrow stream, his muddy boots leaving footprints all over the slippery rocks. In his hand he held a shiny, if a tad worn gun. It was loaded with six bullets, all of which he had managed to steal from his parent’s bedroom closet earlier that day. 

It was a sunny Friday, the open landscapes of the West spreading wide in front of him, empty and lifeless except for a couple of caravans parked right next to a lush forest area down the hill. Birds were singing, and for a moment Henry complitely forgot about his bpring life with his silent mother who only ever left the house during the weekends, and his father whose only achievements in life included one failed bank robbery, and the fact that he lived to tell the tale. Although that was about to change if he’d keep drowning his sorrows into the bottle of whiskey like he had done for the last five years.

From his vantage point beside the creek, Henry could see two kids climbing and playing near the left edge of the woods, both seemingly around his age. Without much of a thought he flung himself forward, the gun safely pushed inside his jean’s waistband. He ran over the stones and bushes with ease, only slowing down when a blast of wind threatened to knock his straw hat off from his head. It was not often that people chose to make their camp here, in the middle of a waisteland, and Henry was determinated to enjoy this while it lasted. Target practice and horseback riding were fun to an extend, but sometimes a boy just needed a company of his kind.

With a wide grin on his face, he walked towards the kids who had already noticed him from the distance. The shorter one was still clinging to a tree, dangling his legs in the air as his friend took a step forward and glanced at Henry with calculated gaze.

“Howdy.” He didn’t say more, just stared at the newcomer. Henry allowed his grin to widen, showing off his white set of teeth.

“Hi! Saw you guys from the river bank, and thought hey, why not make some friends when it’s such a nice day outside and nothing better to do.” He clapped the heels of his boots together, raising his right hand to the brim of his hat. “The name is Henry. I live around here”, he said, pointing towards the way he had come from. 

“Well, hey Henry. My name is Ken and that one up there is Emmett.” The boy in the tree nodded and dropped down next to them. “We were just about to begin our game, wanna tag along?”

“Yeah sure, what’s the plan?” Henry asked, walking closer as Ken patted at the tree trunk with a sturdy slingshot.

“It’s simple. The one who hits that mother bird on that high up branch is the winner. Extra points if you can hit the babies too.”

A wind rocked the tips of the grass. 

“Excuse me?”

Ken turned to look at him again, a mocking smirk on his lips. “What, too scared to play? Well if you don’t have the balls to shoot, then fuck off so we can get on with this.” 

The smaller boy by the tree spit down to his boots. He too had a slingshot hanging from his hip pocket.

Up from the tree, a faint sound of a wren could be heard.

Stretching his elbows, Henry placed his balance evenly on both of his feet, tugging the brim of the cowboy hat lower to shield his eyes from the burning sun.

“Oh, I’ll be shooting alright. Just not at the bird.” The six-shooter was upraised and aimed within a blink of an eye. The barrel was pressed a hair short from Ken’s exposed forehead. “And I can guarantee that the dying sound from my target is going to be much more interesting one than that of a bird.” 

For a second nobody moved, even the wind dying down as the three boys stood below an old oak tree, one with a firearm and two with a wooden slingshots and terrified eyes.

“Hey man, take it easy! That thing might go off any time!”

“Oh”, Henry said, tilting his head, “well that would be a shame now wouldn’t it? You being such a gift to the mankind.” He narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to press the metal pipe more firmly against the sweating skin. “If your parents weren’t sitting just a stone’s throw away, your skull would have an impressive new hole right about here.” He tapped the skin gently, grinning as he took a step back. “Now, I’ll give you ten seconds to run back to your carts. To make this more interesting, the one who gets there first won’t get his ass shot. The time starts now.” 

With that he fired once in the air, sending the two boys running and stumbling down the mild hill, their ankles bending as they hurried towards the camp.

“Well ain’t that a mighty speed”, Henry murmured, his hand lifted against the sun for a better look at the fleeing backs. “This could be a bit tricky.”

He raised the Colt once again. It only took him a bit of adjusting to set the imaginary crosshair between his target’s shoulder blades.

The bullet pierced the flesh instantly, a splatter of blood staining the ground before the body of Emmett’s collapsed on top of the puddle.

The horror in Ken’s eyes as he glanced back at him was priceless. It almost made up for the fact that he was a little too far for the perfect shot. His end came in a form of a shot in the thigh, his hollow screams causing Henry to double over with the laughter.

After he managed to calm himself, he tipped his hat to the bird family watching him from the nest.

“It’s so much more fun when they think they got away.”

* * *

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? A gentleman who obviously has troubles understanding the meaning of the phrase ‘Thou shalt not steal’. What do you think Mac, should I educate this poor soul with my wisdom?”

The Italian leaned against the brick wall of the alley, rolling his eyes as he made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “You might as well. I believe this young lady over here would appreciate your efforts.”

The man holding a knife at the throat of a pale faced woman glanced between the two men, his grip swaying as he turned partly around.

“Who the hell are you? Piss off before you get your stomach opened!” The mugger swinged the knife around wildly, shifting away from the woman who was now on the ground on her knees and had her head pressed between her hands.

Billy didn’t even flinch as the blade twirled past his jaw, carving a shallow cut to his tanned skin. Casually, yet with surprising speed, he snatched his gun from its holster, pointing it at the man’s startled face.

“Now, we have two options here. You can admit your sins and run, or I could just shoot you right here and leave the rest to the police officers. Which one would you prefer?”

He didn’t even make it to the end of his sentence before the man spurted across the alley to the gateways at the end of the street. However, the bullet from his Colt caught up with him easily, penetrating the skull and painting the wall behind him with reddish spatters.

The woman stared at the two remaining men with wide eyes for a while before scrambling up to her feet and running out from the alley with her handbag secured under her arm, the heels clicking as she went.

After the silence returned to the narrow lane, Machiavelli pushed himself off from the wall and came to stand next to the younger man.

“Why do I get the feeling you enjoy shooting people in the back a bit too much?”

Billy glanced upwards, winking as he sarcasticly saluted his partner.

“Old habits, my friend. Old habits.”

**Author's Note:**

> Mistakes, point them out. I need to know, guys.


End file.
